Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => Topic started by: Katie on April 23, 2012, 07:43:32 am
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Four seconds left on the clock.
Fig intercepted the ball and passed it to Atalanta, who kicked up and spun herself left and passed off to Jinna, who slapped it into the neutral basket. Plus one point for the Schenectadys, which put them one point ahead, and three seconds left on the clock.
The other team had the ball now (as according to the rules) and they sent their scorer right up the middle of the court, towards the Schenectady goal. That would win them the game if they got it.
But the defense moved in and the purple-haired scorer let it go too early and Kebey kicked it away and Atalanta caught it and there went the buzzer. 20-21, in their favor. Alright.
The locker rooms were full of post-win buzz. Jinna and the defense were getting most of it, but Kebey slapped Atalanta on the shoulder and said "Nice pass!"
Zie would have said it to anyone in her place, she reminded herself, but it still felt nice.
Atalanta showered and changed (oversize WoW t-shirt, shorts, sandals) and headed out. She left the complex through the side door, like she always did, and looped around the front, and--
--almost ran smack into someone, yeep. Luckily, she managed to backpedal enough that she didn't actually hit them, thank god, because that would have been really embarrassing. "Uh," she said, "Sorry."
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"Whoa!"
Kestrel jumped back in alarm, the feathers of his wings fluffing out--and then he just stared. [i[Up[/i], specifically, because at first all he saw was chest (and a WoW design, nice!) and it wasn't until he craned his neck back that he saw her face. Her. A really, really tall girl.
Then again, that was most people, because Kestrel was a damned short guy.
Blinking yellow eyes, Kestrel took another step back to give her space and gave himself a shake, feathers smoothing back out. "Heh, whoa, sorry, my bad," he said with a sheepish grin, reaching back to rub his neck. "That woulda ended badheywhoa!"
He literally had to do a double-take.
Was she...?
No fuckin' way.
Just moments ago, Kestrel had been chilling at his favorite sports bar catching the last hour of the Mag-Ball game. He wasn't huge on sports, but he watched it when it was on, got sucked in when he did, and he could name teams and players and had his favorites. So not obsessed, but sure, he'd call himself a fan. And now here he was, staring up at the spitting image of one of the players...that he'd just been watching on TV.
It couldn't be her.
Could it?
Would it be super stupid if he asked? Or would it be flattering to be mistaken for someone like that? Well, shit, he'd be flattered so why not! And it looked just like her! Though...would she wear a WoW shirt? She looked really cool on TV and that was so dorky. A sports player probably didn't even have time for all that!
He opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was, "Always thought ya were shorter."
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Whoa, wings. Puffy wings. Really big wings, that would probably be useful as hell in microgravity, although from the looks of things regular gravity was kinda out. (Thank you, bonus science class.) Also the guy was really short, and he was either looking at her breasts or her shirt or both (but probably her breasts, because most people did and anyway the shirt just had the logo on and was about the most common design). Although she couldn't actually be too mad about that because they were kind of at his face height and he was looking up now anyway.
"Yeah," Atalanta started to say (for want of anything better), and then the guy did this...thing. He looked at her and then away and then back again, like he'd noticed something weird. It was kinda weird. Was it the skin? It was the skin sometimes. Or the teeth. Or maybe it was the breasts+gaming shirt thing. That happened too. She was expecting him to ask--well, okay, she wasn't exactly sure what, but it definitely wasn't what he actually said. Where did this guy even know her from?
"I--you what?" she said, staring at him.
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"Er..." Shiiiiit. Right then, right there, Kestrel wished he could sink into the ground and straight to the earth's core, never to be heard from again. Or, y'know, that there was at least a backspace or edit button for real life interactions. His face flushed, feathers bristling.
"I, er..." He cleared his throat. "I, uh...yeah. Let's start over." Another brief throat clearing as he struggled to save face.
"So. Hey! Heh. Sorry. I shoulda been lookin' where I was goin', that was prob'ly my bad. Uh, so...yer a gamer, eh?" SHIT! He looked at her boobs. He was totally looking at her boobs and she could probably tell because the logo was right there. "'Cause of the logo. I mean, WoW."
Oh wow. Could he get any lamer? Somehow, he was beginning to think his attempt at saving the situation was far more awkward than the truth.
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Starting over seemed like a really great idea right now. At least she wasn't blushing or anything, because that was even more embarrassing than screwing up a conversation with some random guy within the first sentence. (Seriously, who did that? Morons like her, that was who.)
"Uh, mine too," she said. It kinda was--amateur mag-ball players should definitely have more coordination and spacial awareness and shit. But apparently that kind of thing only worked off the court for her when it wouldn't be horribly socially embarrassing if it didn't. "Sorry. Again."
And now he was staring at her breasts again. She hated it when people did that. Atalanta crossed her arms (under them, because they were too bulky to go over) and hoped he got the message.
Oh. Okay. Gaming she could do. Gaming was Safe, she could talk about that no problem. "Uh, yeah," Atalanta said, "I work for Hurricane." Then she realized that that wasn't exactly what he meant, so she added, "I play too, though. Host. You?"
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...What.
Kestrel stared at her. This time, he stared at her face, not her boobs. It was a ways up (her boobs were more at eye-level than her face--hey, not his fault for being short or hers for being tall!) but he gaped up at her just the same.
Did she just say she worked for Hurricane?
"Get out!" Kestrel gave himself a shake. "So yer like...ya work fer them? Yer fuckin' kiddin' me! Whatcha do fer 'em? Like programmin' shit?" Then he realized he'd regressed in his excitement and felt his face heat. He cleared his throat and ruffled his wings.
"Er. I ain't played much yet," he said. "But I'm Host, too. 'Cause of the Red Elves." They were hot, what could he say?
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"I'm a mod," said Atalanta. "Like, forums and stuff. I mean, I do programming to, but on the side." The place her dad had moved them now was pretty expensive. So two jobs. They could move, but he liked it there, said it was good hunting, and he didn't have enough stuff that made him happy. She couldn't tell him they oughta move, not when he was so in love with the place.
Course he was Host cause of the Red Elves. It was a guy thing. Boobs and all, plus ass and the "exotic" (Atalanta hated that word) thing. She played an orc--big like her, but way more kick-ass. There was just something satisfying about slicing up monsters with a giant ax.
Next thing to talk about after faction was guild. Why couldn't she talk gaming all the time? It was so easy. She knew what everything meant and she didn't have to get personal or anything. "In a guild?"
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Kestrel blinked several times and then it clicked. "Oh. A mod. That kinda mod! Oh! I thought ya meant like, y'know, mod development. Like fer games. An'...stuff." Then he jolted, wings bristling, and waved his hands.
"Not that forum moddin' ain't awesome. I bet that's a fun job!" he said with a grin. Not that he knew much about it. He wasn't much of a forum person. Didn't mean he wasn't still enamored with the fact that she worked for a big company like that. That like, made her famous by association or something!
At her next question, he shook his head. "Naw. I tried it once but couldn't understand a word they was sayin'. Then I got in a fight with some guy and was booted. Guess I just make a better lone wolf." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "What 'bout ya?"
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Hah, if only. Atalanta wasn't near good enough at programming for that kind of thing. "Uh, yeah," she said. Fun. Right. Except for the parts where she came across posts with rape threats and kitchen jokes and all that shit. Lucky thing the ToS of the forums meant she was able to delete most those right off (it was what kept her job as Safe territory). "It's fine."
Yeah, guildie slang got...thick sometimes. Atalanta'd been real close to giving up, but she'd gotten it eventually. "La Malga," she said. There was just a little bit of pride in her voice--La Malga was a really good guild, and she liked it a lot. Apart from the mag-ball team, the other guildies were pretty much the closest thing she had to friends, which was nice. Atalanta knew she couldn't really count on them and all, but it was somebody to talk to who wasn't her dad (she loved him best, of course, but sometimes she just needed to see somebody else).
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"Oh, I think I heard of 'em," Kestrel said with a smile, though he hadn't heard of them at all. He just figured it was better to sound like he did, to act like he knew what he was talking about, because she obviously liked this stuff and he didn't want to seem a wet blanket or clueless.
"How do ya like 'em?"
There! A nice, neutral way of asking what the heck La Malga was without admitting his ignorance.
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"Oh, they're great," said Atalanta. She smiled--this was a good topic, and La Malga was awesome. "Real professional, no griefing allowed, this great questing team setup. We've got this tavern we use to meet up in Crowholdt." The setup in particular was the best part--set teams, and then they got switched around sometimes. Her team members were really nice and everything, even if she didn't know them that well. And the switching was kind of awkward (new people, not Safe), but it was a pretty good skill test, because you had to work around new people.
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Kestrel's brow furrowed in confusion. Professional? Could gamers really be called professional? Sounded kinda funny to him, 'cause the few times he'd run around in an MMORPG, there'd been a lot of swearing and, well...they were pretending to be paladins and stuff taking out dark mages and fearsome beasts and whatnot. It all seemed kinda silly. Fun, but silly.
"Ohhh! So yer like a guild or somethin'?" he said, then grinned. "Well, I can't say I'm too like...pro or nothin', but I gotta say it's tough flyin' solo." Rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugged his shoulders.
"There like some application process to get in?"
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"Yeah," said Atalanta, shrugging. Quests were kinda hard when you were all on your own, and a lot of them you flat-out couldn't do cause you needed a buddy to heal you up, or maybe another one to soak up the damage while you were healing yourself.
"And you can ask them and stuff, but usually they ask you." She'd half thought they were joking when they invited her, but nope. Real. Cassia's idea (Cassia was pretty cool, even if Atalanta didn't really talk to her that much.)
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"Hmm..." Kestrel pondered that for a moment; it had been a while since he'd played so hopefully he'd even remember how to run a search for guilds! But he figured he could search the Net if he got lost. Better than losing face by asking her how to. "Sweet deal. I'll have to look into tha'! Maybe catch ya 'round, uh...um..." Wait a minute.
It occurred to him then that he didn't actually know her name, that he kept referring to her in his head as, well...her.
Whoops.
Shifting his wings, a motion not unlike an awkward shrug except with more feather-fluffing, Kestrel gave a sheepish grin. "Er. Jus' sorta realized I dunno yer name."
He glanced both ways, then looked back to her and held out his hand. "I'm Kestrel. Say, ya wanna like get outta here? Somewhere less middle-of-th'-sidewalk?"
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"Uh." True. They hadn't exactly gotten around to the whole name thing, what with that weird thing that had happened first and then the boob-staring and then the game talk. It was just the kinda thing that happened to her. She could give out her name, though. It wasn't like she was the only one ever with it, right?
"I'm Atalanta." She almost said something about the name going with the wings, and then stopped herself because it was stupid, and she'd just met him, and he was like everybody else but she still didn't want to look like a total moron.
And. Er. Did she want to? They were in public right now and they'd probably go to a public place, and there were a lot of bad things that could happen ever then...but did she want to? It was fun sometimes when the team managed to talk her into going places after practice. She'd actually have to talk here. But she could talk game stuff, all she had to do was stay on the topic. "Um, sure," she said, and hoped she wasn't expected to think of a place.
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"Atalanta, huh? Cool," Kestrel said with a smile. "So, I know this pretty neat like gamer bar type place...y'know, arcade but with alcohol? Sound like yer type-a place?"
He'd been there a few times, even met some cute chicks there! It wasn't far from his apartment so it was convenient and not all smoky like other bars, because that was bad for the screens. Best of all worlds!
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It didn't really, but she'd already said yes. Backing out would be--not good. For starters. "Yeah, sounds fine," she said. Atalanta was trying for at least semi-enthusiastic. She hoped it'd gone through.
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"Cool! Alright! So, yeah, I'll show ya where it is!"
She didn't seem all that excited, but eh, he was a strange, random dude that had just randomly invited her out to a geek tavern so it figured she'd have her reservations--he guessed. Despite the fact that she towered over him and looked athletic enough to kick his ass into next month, while he was scrawny and, well...bird-delicate. But who knew! For all she knew, he could be some psycho with a posse waiting just around the corner.
Ick.
"It's jus' down th' street, coupla blocks away." Smiling, he turned and motioned for her to follow, making sure to keep his wings tucked in close so he didn't accidentally whack her.
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Atalanta followed him, having all kinds of second thoughts. But she was stuck with it now. It wasn't that long a walk to the bar, and he didn't have any friends who suddenly joined them.
The bar wasn't that bad, either. Screens were all in good condition, glasses weren't all chipped or dusty, staff looked alright. Good. "So, uh," she said, "You want me to buy?"
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"Wha?" Kestrel stared at Atalanta, feathers slightly fluffed, and then shook his head vigorously and swallowed down a rush of embarrassment. "Oh, no! I got this. I invited ya, yeah? Be pretty funky makin' you buy when I asked ya along."
But he probably didn't look like he could afford much, he imagined, being on the lower end of the middle caste and a lowly bagger at a grocery store. That stung his pride. So maybe he did live sort of payday to payday but she didn't have to know that!
"Whatcha want?"
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"Uh." What did she want to drink? Not much was the first answer that sprang to mind, because she knew getting drunk was filed under R for Really Effin' Dumb. But she also knew almost nothing about alcohol because she just wasn't interested in it, and, uh...problem. "I don't really drink much," she said. Then, because she didn't want to seem rude or anything, Atalanta added, "I guess I'll just get whatever you do?"
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"Oh, okay, uh..." Shit, what to get, what to get? Kestrel didn't want to get something she'd hate! And he also didn't want to get something super strong in case that sent the wrong signal, like he was up to something shady.
"Sweet, alright." Striding up to the bar, he ordered them both a toasted marshmallow martini, which the bartender delivered several minutes later. Sweet. Delicious. And not enough alcohol to get drunk on, but just enough to get a pleasant, relaxed buzz. Take the edge off, calm the nerves.
"These're pretty good," he said, holding hers out to her. "Butcha don't gotta drink it if ya don't like it, 'kay?"
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"Uh, okay," Atalanta said (why'd she added the um? It was a one-word sentence, for gods' sakes). The drink looked like a dessert in a funny-shaped wine glass. She took a careful sip. Last time she'd had alcohol, it had been champagne, and it had tasted really bitter--
Oh. This was sweet. Well, there were marshmallows in it. Or one marshmallow. Anyway. It was good enough that she took another, bigger sip.
She should say something now. They'd come here just to talk more, and he'd bought her a drink (she really hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea; even though he seemed like he wouldn't you just never knew). So. Um.
Right. WoW. "So," Atalanta said, keeping her eyes on her drink--that was the good thing about talking to people over food and stuff, it was always easy to know where to look. "You play the new expansion yet?"
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She wasn't gagging or spitting it out, so that had to mean she liked it, right? Kestrel took a large sip of his own and had to remind himself to slow down. It tasted like candy, sure, but it was alcoholic.
"Th' one with th' koalas an' shit?" Kestrel said, perking up. "Haha, yeah! Jus' downloaded it th' other day! Got myself a monk type. I dunno, it's funny, there was so much fuckin' drama but I think they're kinda, uh..." He lowered his voice. "Cute." Kestrel cleared his throat, cheeks darkening a little at that confession.
"How 'boutcha?"
He'd scarcely gotten the words out of his mouth when a group of obviously tipsy twenty-somethings staggered over to them, laughing at the joke some older guy had told. On their way toward one of the games near them, one of the guys stopped, laughed, and slung a shoulder around hers; he was tall, but still at least four inches shorter than her.
"Hey, you're cute," he slurred. "Why don'tcha come join us?"
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Oh. So she wasn't the only one who thought that. Cool. "They're small and fuzzy and stuff," Atalanta said. "So yeah. Not the one on the promo material, though."
She was about to say that she'd barely made it to the temple in the first zone, and then maybe ask if playing a monk was fun (she liked being the tank and all but sometimes she wanted to do other stuff, too) but then those guys passed by and she shut up. She got a lot of attention from guys, especially drunk ones--it was the boobs--and she didn't want to make it any worse.
Too late. She froze up when the arm fell around her shoulders (how was he even doing that, his head barely reached her chin). "I, uh," she said. Oh shit oh shit, she could feel the blush coming. Why did this have to happen now? Everything had been going just fine. "I'm, um. Here with someone. Already." She pulled back against the bar, trying to shake the guy off.
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Like a lamprey, the guy clung to Atalanta as she backed up, though being totally wasted it was more that he stumbled along with her--and into her--and wound up pinning her against the bar. "That's alright, honey. Why don'tcha ditch 'em? We're a lot more fun. Can show you a real good time."
Atalanta wasn't the only one who froze. Kestrel went rigid, eyes going from Atalanta to the new guy and back. Aw, shiiiiit. He'd seen the movies; he knew the drill. Girl gets picked on, the guy comes to the rescue, but shiiiit. He didn't know the first thing about that! He wasn't exactly a buff dude, in fact most of his parts were very breakable, like the hollow bones of his delicate, feathery wings. Which had only just recovered from being broken by who knows what; memories of that event were a little scattered (though the creepy encounter directly after that with a doctor he was convinced was some sort of serial killer was clear as day) but the point was, someone had owned him and owned him hard and he just wasn't built for that.
Aw maaan...
Still. He'd brought her here and said it was a good place and stuff...
"Uh. Hey. Why don'tcha fuckers back off?" Kestrel said at last, standing from his seat and letting his wings puff up, a vain effort at making himself look bigger than he was. "She said leave 'er alone. Okay? so leave 'er alone."
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Oh gods oh gods oh gods. This was the worst it'd ever been--the creeps'd never had a chance to get this, this personal before. There was like no space between them and his hand had just finished 'accidentally' hitting her in the chest. Atalanta squished herself as far back against the bar as she could. It gave her enough space to get an arm up between them.
She should shove him. She was strong enough. She wasn't ripped or anything but she had muscle and he was drunk off his ass. It would be easy, like when someone set a weight machine low and she started before she noticed she had to change the settings.
But if she did, people would stare. It sounded so dumb even inside her head--she knew people staring wasn't worse than having this guy all over her, and it would be the best thing to switch out which one was actually happening, but all she could do was lock up.
"I don't want to see it," she managed to get out. (That had been the stupidest thing to say.) "Just--just get off. Please." That last part sort of got covered up by Kestrel getting up and sort of puffing. It was really nice of him and also really brave. Unfortunately it only did one thing: it made the guy move one arm to shove Kestrel back and say, "Didn't ask you, y'little shit."
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Kestrel staggered backwards when he was shoved and caught himself against his chair. He straightened back up and fluffed his wings, still trying in vain to look large and intimidating even while his heart hammered in his chest. They weren't letting up; he had to do something! But there were a number of them, and they were all far bigger than him and while he may have been more willing to get all up in peoples' space before his accident...somethin g about it all had shaken him, made him more cautious, more scared.
"No, but ya asked her and yer not listenin' to what she wants! Let 'er go!" he snapped. Oh man, this was so lame! He was supposed to be able to like step in and do something, come to her rescue, not act like a total helpless dweeb while she was bullied and scared. Not just because it was the macho thing to do, but because it was the right thing, and...wait.
Turning around, he shouted down the bartender, who had been serving people on the other side.
"Can ya call security? Those guy're sexually harassin' her!"
That didn't take long. The bartender pressed a button beneath the counter, and in moments two burly security guards stepped up to the counter and approached the group. One bodily hauled the guy off of Atalanta and the other stepped in to help break up the group.
When they were out of the way, Kestrel slipped in next to Atalanta. "Y'okay?"
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"I'm fine," Atalanta said. It was a really, really obvious lie. She was so not fine it was edging into capital-letter territory again. The blush was still there and her hands were shaking a little. Which was stupid, that hadn't even taken five minutes. And it could have taken less if she'd done the smart thing and asked for security herself instead of making Kestrel do it.
She took a drink of her martini, more because she wanted something to do than because she actually wanted to. "I should go home," she said. "My dad'll be expecting me." That wasn't really true. He had the evening shift tonight, as long as she got home before he did he'd have no idea what time she'd gotten in. Really she just wanted to leave because she was freaking out and it was embarassing and she didn't want Kestrel to see.
"But, uh. Thanks. For the drink and stuff--it was nice." Atalanta smiled slightly. Should she ask him if he wanted to play sometime? What if he said no? But she was leaving already and if she didn't ask something like that he might think she didn't like him. And she did. She thought. "Um. If you want, we could play through a dungeon or something. You know, later."
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Kestrel winced, feeling on some level like he'd just let her down. She'd been all nervous, and he'd promised that the place was safe and cool. Not that he blamed her wanting to go home after all that; that had to have been scary (hell, it was scary just watching), and he wished he could have been more heroic and like knocked that asshole down or something.
Still, he nodded and put on a smile. "Hey, yeah, I'd love to! Tha' sounds fun. Oh, here..." Reaching for his receipt for the drinks, he flipped it over and asked the bartender for a pen. Then he scribbled his username and server on the back, along with his phone number, just because.
He held it out to her, ruffling his wings to get them to settle more comfortably along his back. "So, uh, yeah! We should do tha' sometime." He paused, and added, "An' hey, why don't I walk ya home at least? I feel real bad 'bout all this...an', well...I can at least make sure ya get home safe?"
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Oh thank gods he didn't think it was a dumb idea. That would have really sucked after what'd already happened. Atalanta pocketed the receipt and was heading to the door when he asked.
Well, her dad would say it was a bad idea...but it wasn't like he would know or anything if she didn't tell him, and she didn't want to disappoint Kestrel, not after he'd been so nice to her. Besides, she was going to be freaked out probably until the next morning, and it'd be nice to have somebody else with her.
"Uh, yeah, sure, that sounds fine," Atalanta said. "I mean, you don't have to, but um, thanks. We're a coupla blocks up from here."
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"Ain't a problem," Kestrel said, and headed for the door so he could hold it open for her. He smiled in a manner he hoped was reassuring.
"I'll feel better knowin' ya get home alright."
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"Thanks," Atalanta said. "It's, uh, this way." It wasn't a really long walk--part of the reason she liked the apartment so much was that she could walk to pretty much everything she needed. (Public transport was awful because of how close she had to sit to people, and she couldn't drive the car casually because it was registered to someone else.)
"This is my building," she said once they got there. "I had fun. Except for that one part, I mean. I guess I'll call you sometime?"
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Kestrel couldn't help but grimace at the mention of "that one part". Yeah, he still felt somehow responsible, even if it wasn't his fault. Couldn't control what the creepy jerks of the world did, right? But it sure would have been nice if he could have been like...intimidating or something. He'd have to work on that, and maybe choose a way safer venue next time.
If there was a next time. "I'll call you sometime" could easily be code for "never again!"
He replaced the grimace with a smile. "I had fun, too! Uh, also 'cept for tha' one part. But yeah, hey, um, call me if ya wanna hang again sometime! And definitely hit me up on WoW! I'm on it way more than's probably healthy," he said with an awkward laugh.
He shifted from foot to foot and looked up at her. "So, uh, yeah! Have a good rest of the night, Atalanta."